Page 40 of Kissing Potions and Elves (Oakvale Ever After #1)

LYRION

I ’m deep in thought, frowning down at the potions book on my desk, with Rhystan, when the door bursts open. I look up sharply as Hilda sweeps into the study, a determined look on her face.

“Is everything alright?”

“No, it is not . We need to talk about Isobel.” She places her hands on her hips. “Did you know she’s planning to leave tomorrow? To return to her apartment.”

“ What? Why?”

“Because the proximity spell has faded.”

“Yes, but that’s no reason for her to feel she needs to leave.”

“Then, you need to tell her that,” Hilda states firmly. “And while you’re at it, perhaps you might also consider telling her how you feel as well.”

“I’m… not sure what you mean.”

“Lyrion Thornwylde,” she says sharply, “I’ve known you since before you could walk. You know exactly what I mean, young man.”

Rhystan leans back in his chair. “Well, this seems rather serious. It’s not often that Hilda gets upset about things.” His lips curve into a teasing smirk as he leans in and mock whispers, “Glad I’m not you, Brother.”

I shoot him a withering look. He simply lifts his hands in surrender, reclining further in his seat as though preparing for a particularly entertaining show.

With a resigned sigh, I turn my full attention to my Dwarven housekeeper, who is actually more of a second mother to me than anything else.

She’s standing with her arms crossed, eyes narrowed, her usually soft features carved into a determined mask.

I don’t remember the last time I’ve seen her this upset.

“What are you talking about, Hilda?”

“What are your intentions toward Isobel, Lyrion?” Instead of her usual warmth, her words are clipped and direct. “She’s living in your house and you’re engaged to another woman that you haven’t even told her about.”

Rhystan coughs dramatically, barely hiding a laugh. I send him a glare, which only seems to fuel his amusement. “Do continue, Hilda. I’ve been raising similar concerns, but perhaps he’ll actually listen to you.” He smirks. “This should be good.”

I ignore my brother and pinch the bridge of my nose, exhaling deeply. “Hilda, I know you might be disappointed, because I know how much you liked her, but… I’ve already sent ravens to Lady Elyssia and my parents. I’ve informed them of my intent to break my betrothal.”

For a moment, the room is silent. I brace myself, expecting to hear a sharp intake of breath, to see disapproval etched across Hilda’s face. But instead, she claps her hands together. “Oh, thank the gods!”

“Wait.” My brows knit together in confusion. “You’re happy?”

“Of course I am!” She wraps her arms around me in a fierce, motherly hug. “I never really cared for Elyssia, truth be told.”

“But… you always seemed so pleased when you saw her. I—I thought you approved.”

“Because I wanted you happy, Lyrion. You’d agreed to it, so I assumed you must’ve seen something in her. But that Elf”—she grimaces delicately—“is colder than a winter frost.”

Rhystan snorts out a laugh.

Hilda’s expression softens. “I’ve never seen you so happy as you’ve been these past few weeks since Isobel came into our lives.”

My brother’s expression turns serious. “Did you receive Mother and Father’s acknowledgment yet of your intent to break the betrothal? Or Elyssia’s?”

“Not yet.” Frustration tightens my chest. Breaking such an engagement formally isn’t as easy as sending a single message. There will be consequences, expectations, formalities to navigate.

“I doubt our parents will simply accept your decision quietly. Nor will Elyssia’s family, for that matter,” Rhystan adds. “They’ll expect you to return to Rivenyl and handle the matter officially, in person.”

“I know,” I confirm bitterly. “A raven was merely the first step. It’s a declaration of intent, but it does not yet set me free.”

There are negotiations, formal hearings, and perhaps repercussions from Elyssia’s family. It’s not a swift or simple process.

Hilda squeezes my hand. “You need to tell Isobel, Lyrion. She doesn’t know about Lady Elyssia.”

“I intend to,” I promise. “But first, I must fully understand what I’m facing. I need confirmation from our parents and Elyssia’s family that they’ve received my message before I burden Isobel with this.” I sigh heavily. “I plan to return to Rivenyl next week to sort this out.”

Rhystan nods slowly. “I’ll go with you.”

His support touches me. “Thank you, Brother. Once it’s done, I’ll be free.”

“I knew it.” Rhystan grins. He looks at Hilda, and she nods. I narrow my eyes in mock irritation, knowing they’ve been discussing my personal life behind my back. “We both called it the moment we saw the way you look at her, Lyrion.”

Despite my feigned annoyance, my chest warms at their unexpected support.

“Now,” Hilda says, “I’ll ask again: What are your intentions with Isobel?”

I lift my chin, meeting her eyes evenly. “I’m going to ask her permission to court her, Hilda.”

In my culture, formally requesting to court someone is no small matter. It’s a commitment, a promise of intention, if not yet a formal betrothal.

A bright smile lights her face. “Oh, Lyrion, that’s wonderful.”

“But I’m not sure she wants this.” I rub the back of my neck awkwardly, vulnerability clawing at my chest. “I don’t know if—”

“Come now, Lyrion, don’t be daft,” she says exasperatedly.

“Isobel is in the garden. Get out there and tell her how you feel.” She starts shooing me toward the door.

“If you wait too long, mark my word, someone else—perhaps that charming Fae jeweler—will snap her up and she’ll slip right through your fingers. ”

“I agree.” Rhystan nods, a teasing grin curving his lips. “And I’m sure the Fae is much more charming than you, Lyrion, so you’ll want to listen to Hilda.”

“He most certainly is not.” I scowl at him as I think of Cyran. “Are you two seriously teaming up against me?”

“Yes,” they both reply in unison, their expressions identical in their stubborn insistence.

“Now, go on.” Hilda makes another shooing motion toward the door. “You’ve stalled long enough. It’s time to claim your happiness.”

“Alright.”

I rise from my desk, my heart thundering as I stride from the study and make my way toward the garden. The cool night air greets me as I step outside.

My pulse quickens when I spot Isobel beneath the cherry tree, moonlight casting an ethereal glow over her delicate features. Something tightens in my chest—a bittersweet awareness of the vast differences between us.

She is warmth and sunshine and kindness and light. And I’m… moody and irritable and, according to my brother, as grumpy as a Goblin in the mornings before I’ve had my tea.

How could I possibly be worthy of someone as sweet and genuine as Isobel?

But as I move toward her in the darkness, my heartbeat quickens, not from nerves or uncertainty, but from a newfound clarity that’s settled deep within my chest.

Moon above, how things have changed. I was once content with my solitude, comfortably locked away within walls of books and quiet contemplation. Emotion, warmth, companionship… these were things I never truly believed I needed or even wanted.

I kept myself carefully aloof, distant from anything or anyone who might disturb the orderly peace of my life. Yet, somehow, Isobel slipped past every barrier I’ve ever built.

With her gentle laughter, the kindness that shines from her every action, and her earnest, open heart, she quietly and irrevocably altered everything I thought I knew about myself.

A faint smile curves my lips. How foolish I’ve been, believing that love was a distraction to avoid rather than a gift to embrace.

Magic or no magic, spell or no spell, it doesn’t matter. I’ve fallen for her. Completely. And tonight, I will ensure she knows exactly how much she means to me.